


the haunted house on victory hill

by cROAissant



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Haunted House, friendly ghostly ancestors, ghost!Makkachin, ghost!Victuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 14:11:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12583612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cROAissant/pseuds/cROAissant
Summary: Phichit heard the Plisetsky family owned a creepy ass pre-Belle Beauty and the Beast-like estate. It took some convincing – care of his blackmail folder and some aggressive nudging from Mila Babicheva-Feltsman - but Phichit booked Victory Manor for their Halloween week vacation.





	the haunted house on victory hill

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Spoopy Day, y'all!

Phichit heard from the Guang Hong Ji who heard from Leo de la Iglesia who heard from Otabek Altin that Yuri Plisetsky’s grandpa owned the creepy ass pre-Belle Beauty and the Beast-like estate spanning from an ominous forest to Victory Hill.  
  
Phichit had never seen the manor himself, not even in pictures. That was an anomaly considering it was the age of the Internet and stupid people who did things for the heck of it. Few made it past the forest, and those that did never made it through the gates. It seemed that everyone just unanimously concluded that the century-old estate was haunted despite knowing nothing about it.  
  
It took some convincing – care of his blackmail folder and some aggressive nudging from Mila Babicheva-Feltsman – but Phichit booked Victory Manor for their Halloween week vacation.  
  
(He loved his school and its strange holidays.)  
  
(Also, Yuri pronounced its name weird, like victuuri rather than victory. Maybe it was just the Russian accent.)

There were originally seven of them geared up to go, but prior commitments (excuses, more like) prevented three of them from coming along. Leo was booked for family cemetery visit day, Minami volunteered to chaperone a horde of children from the local orphanage to go trick or treating, and JJ’s parents flipped at the very mention of Victory Manor and refused to let him go. In the end, only Guang Hong, Seung-gil, and Otabek joined him for the trip.

They met Yuri in front of his apartment building, where they squeezed themselves in Grandpa Nikolai’s jalopy. The kind old man wouldn’t be joining them for their stay, but he was sure they could manage fine on their own. At Guang Hong’s wary warble, he assured them that the mansion was well-maintained and had working utilities. Phichit exhaled in relief, knowing he wouldn’t have to depend on several portable chargers to stretch his phone’s battery life.  
  
They got a little history lesson on the three-hour drive to their destination. Nikolai’s grandfather Victor, met his other grandfather Yuuri at a ball and it was love at first sight. They married and had Victory Manor constructed just over a year later. (He said victory weird too; it was definitely the accent.) They were kind, eccentric, and so disgustingly in love that they opened their home to anyone and everyone who needed it.  
  
This was the part where everyone crammed the back seat expected a dark twist involving murder and betrayal, but it never came. Grandpa Nikolai just went on to tell them that he and his brother spent their holidays at the manor when they were young. The rest of the family still came to the estate once a year in May for family reunions and it was well cared for the rest of the year.  
  
“You have caretakers then?” Otabek asked, speaking for the first time in hours. While his question was directed at Grandpa Nikolai, it was it Yuri who responded.  
  
“No, the ghosts do all the cleaning,” he deadpanned. He guessed that Yuri didn’t appreciate the scary stories about his ancestral home. If the gentle look on his face during the drive was any indication, he loved Victory Manor as much as his grandpa did.  
  
“Don’t be rude, Yurotchka,” Grandpa Nikolai admonished. Yuri surprised them all by looking properly chastised rather than sassing back. He screeched at his granduncle at least once every day of training. Granted, it was mutual yelling.  
  
“While Dedushka and Ojiichan’s home is over a hundred years old, it’s nothing like those scary castles you see in Yurotchka’s horror movies,” he said, drawing their attention back to the apparently not haunted house. He chuckled heartily with a slow shake of the head, “Honestly, this is all probably Yakov’s fault. He told Patrick Leroy that our grandfathers were buried in the garden.”  
  
They laughed along with him. To Phichit’s surprise, he felt Seung-gil relax a little beside him. He supposed even the most stoic people were afraid of something.  
  
He chuckled. To think the whole town thought the estate was rife with spiritual debauchery because a teenage Coach Feltsman wanted to scare a rink mate.  
  
“Of course,” Grandpa Nikolai added after a few moments, “he wasn’t lying. But he didn’t have to say it like it was a bad thing.”

 

  
_____

 

  
In no time at all, Victory Manor was in sight. The wrought iron gates opened swiftly as they neared the entrance. There were no guards stationed nearby, but Phichit assumed this was among the improvements to the estate Grandpa Nikolai mentioned before.  
  
The place was nothing like the terrifying castle of death in Phichit’s imagination. They drove past an expansive garden, tall trees, and every flower known to man blooming in perfectly coordinated designs. They eventually pulled up to the entrance, everything from the large glittering fountain to the mansion’s golden accents screamed of affluence. While Phichit was upper middle class at worst, the mansion’s exterior was more luxury than he was used to.  
  
Grandpa Nikolai was the first to leave the car, Yuri following close by. It took a good five minutes to pry Seung-gil’s hands off the seat, but Phichit was an expert in gently manhandling. They unloaded their belongings from the trunk and watched the older Plisetsky push the large doors open with a dramatic swoosh.  
  
“Welcome to Victory Manor,” he beamed, facing them with an elegant twirl. For a man in his seniors who complained of a bad back, he sure was limber.  
  
Yuri approached him with an exasperated eye roll and a fond smile. “Just because your grandpa did that with guests doesn’t mean you have to, grandpa.”  
  
The older man huffed, “Dedushka wouldn’t appreciate that Yurotchka. He lived for grand gestures.”  
  
“He lived for being fucking extra more like,” he muttered, dragging his bag into the threshold. Nikolai sighed fondly, like this was a regular argument between them.  
  
Yuri gestured for him and the others to follow him inside. He and Otabek shrugged and pushed their unwilling roommates forward.  
  
Phichit wasn’t the only one whose jaw dropped at the mansion’s interior. While he expected as much grandeur on the inside as the outside, he didn’t expect to walk straight into a Snob Magazine double page spread. An intricate oriental rug covered the threshold leading up to a huge ass center staircase, potted plants flanking a floor to ceiling window where it forked up to the second floor. Gold framed paintings hung on the walls next to equally expensive-looking lighting fixtures.  
  
Grandpa Nikolai instructed them to leave their bags in the lobby while he gave them a quick tour of the manor via PowerPoint presentation in one of their receiving rooms. They had a lake in the garden, a library spanning half the second floor of the east wing, and a poodle farm nearby. There were also music rooms and dance studios – one with a pole.  
  
Otabek would have a bright future as a DJ/Yuri’s co-trophy husband in a decade or so. Phichit was a little jealous.  
  
The digital tour concluded, and Grandpa Nikolai wheeled in trays of tea and snacks for them. He didn’t even leave the room; the trolley seemed to have been stationed right there at the entrance, waiting for him to finish. While he should have wondered why he didn’t hear anyone stopping by during the quiet slideshow, Phichit was distracted by the cheesecake.  
  
He never wanted to leave.  
  
“Yurotchka,” Grandpa Nikolai drawled, eyeing the boy’s second mountain of finger food, “you’ll spoil your dinner like that.”  
  
Yuri chomped on a large brownie defiantly, “They wouldn’t put all this out unless they knew we’d finish.”  
  
It was Nikolai’s turn to roll his eyes, “There is a refrigerator in the kitchen. They can store anything you don’t finish.”

 

  
_____

 

 

The bedrooms were on the west wing of the third floor. According to Grandpa Nikolai, his Ojiichan despised the early morning sun and demanded all sleeping quarters be placed away from the offending rays.  
  
“They needed to wake early for their respective duties, but Dedushka was more than happy to indulge him anyway,” he said, his voice coloring in amusement. He told them of his fondest memories of witnessing his grumpy “the morning is evil” grandfather trudging through the halls, barely a person until he had his morning tea.  
  
There were three rooms prepared for them at the far end of the hall – Yuri’s customary bedroom and two rooms adjacent to his that accommodated two people each.  
  
“They have always been guest rooms,” he said, noting that both Phichit’s and Otabek’s roommates paled exponentially, “so there’s no need to worry about sleeping in a dead relative’s old quarters.” He winked mischievously as they crossed the hall. “Yurotchka’s room, on the other hand, used to be my parents’. It was their honeymoon suite, you know.”  
  
Yuri groaned and covered his ears, his grimace long-suffering. “I don’t need to hear this. Grandpa, please!”  
  
The man laughed heartily and pat the boy on the back.  
  
Phichit and Seung-gil took the room to Yuri’s left, Guang Hong and Otabek on the right. Despite not seeing any servants milling around, their bags were piled carefully on their beds. He had to commend their efficiency.  
  
Dinner would be served in a few hours, Grandpa Nikolai told them. They were free to explore the grounds and do whatever they wanted after settling in. There was a pole dance studio with his name on it. Seung-gil would be spending his afternoon in the poodle farm. He hoped he wouldn’t try to smuggle a puppy in his coat… again.

 

_____

 

  
No one was surprised when three tiny poodles joined them in the smaller dining hall that evening. (Phichit still couldn’t believe there were two dining halls in the manor to accommodate small and large gatherings alike.) Grandpa Nikolai guffawed and waved off everyone’s Seung-gil’s (totally not pouting) apologies.  
  
“Don’t worry,” he assured them, “Dedushka and Ojiichan let the dogs run around the manor all the time. The farm poodles still do occasionally. It’s a treat for everyone, really.”  
  
It was extremely sweet, and Phichit couldn’t help but wonder how Yuri could have developed a love for cats having grown up with actual hordes of fluffy cuteness around. Of course, he seemed to adore all animals so maybe he just identified more personally with hissy felines.  
  
Grandpa Nikolai took his leave, promising to return the puppies to their mothers. Yuri was visibly upset at seeing his grandfather go, but begrudgingly accepted that the man had other duties to take care of. They bid him farewell at the entrance, Yuri handing him a plastic container of fried pastries.  
  
“Katsudon pirozhki?” he asked, ecstatic.  
  
Yuri chuckled, “I don’t see why you sound so happy about it. You make better katsudon pirozhki than anyone.”  
  
He shook his head, laughing, “Don’t be sacrilegious, Yurotchka. Dedushka and Ojiichan are the reason why we have the recipe in the first place.”  
  
They had a mountain of katsudon pirozhki for dinner that evening. Phichit wondered if it was the kind of food the gods ate.

 

 

_____

 

 

Phichit scrolled through his photos that night before bed. While he live tweeted and Instagram storied his stay at Victory Manor all afternoon – and thank goodness, he remembered to ask Grandpa Nikolai for the Wi-Fi password – his highlights of my day album across several social media platforms required updating.  
  
“Seung-gil, what do you think about these?” he asked, showing him a string of selfies in the home theater. Yuri forced them into a mini-horror movie marathon after dinner as revenge for teasing him for being a grandpa’s boy. (They all thought their relationship was heart wrenchingly sweet, by the way. It was just a lot of fun to mess with him.)  
  
Rather than answer him, Seung-gil glanced at the screen and said. “I thought it was a mirror.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“That frame behind us in the shot, I thought it was a mirror.”  
  
He flipped his phone over to face him, and examined the shot. It was an unspoken rule in the Chulanont family to never take a bad photograph. He’d mastered the art of the selfie long before front facing cameras were a thing. So despite the quirky angle, they all still looked fabulous in the shot. Or at least, as fabulous as you can be while you struggled and yelled at your photographer.  
  
Phichit lay across four struggling laps, lying elegantly and winking at the camera. One hand clasping the handle of his trusty selfie stick, and another thrown over Yuri’s shoulder. The blonde yelled down at him, mouth so comically wide that it made up half his face and flailing arms frozen above his head. Beside him, Otabek threw a thumbs up at the camera, expressing his enthusiasm despite his straight face.  
  
There was a gap between him and Seung-gil that Phichit would squeeze himself into when he deemed their impromptu photoshoot.  
  
Seung-gil, who was familiar with his ridiculous friend casually launching himself into his lap, looked the least uncomfortable with the arrangement. However, only his wide eyes were visible from where he cocooned himself in a large blanket. Finally, Guang Hong meant to shoot a foot into the air from fright, but Phichit’s legs hindered him somewhat. He jumped diagonally rather than straight up. The photo had him crouched over the table, arms flapping wildly.  
  
All in all, the photo looked as fun as the others. If you didn’t look above them.  
  
A smiling couple stood behind them – a man with short, silver hair and blue eyes with his arms around a shorter brunet in glasses – Yuri’s great grandfathers, if he remembered the large portrait in the receiving room correctly. They were dressed in knitted sweaters, designs he knew didn’t exist a century ago.  
  
Phichit took a low angle shot, and the bottom of the frame was hidden behind them. But he was sure it was there because its ornamental designs framed the couple.  
  
Despite his own apprehension, he reasoned, “It was probably a painting. Didn’t Grandpa Nikolai say Yuri’s mom liked painting?”  
  
“It was a mirror,” Seung-gil pressed, his voice wavering in mild fear. “Guang Hong wanted to cover it up before the short films started.”  
  
He waved a hand, “He’d do the same if it were a portrait though. You know how he still can’t get over that cabin window story.”  
  
“You said we’d never talk about that again!”  
  
“Okay, okay!” he raised his hands in acquiesce, “Just take a few deep breaths. It was definitely a portrait.”  
  
He quickly deleted the photo and all the others in the set. Seung-gil refused to sleep in the same room as a haunted phone.

 

  
_____

 

  
He was burrowed in a warm comforter, but a chill still swept his body. There were two voices at his bedside, quiet and melodic.  
  
“I can’t believe he deleted that photo! We all looked so great in it!”  
  
“We scared them a little. I can’t blame them.”  
  
“We have to recover it!”  
  
“It’ll scare him.”  
  
“That’s the point!” A long hum, “I don’t know his passcode, hmmm… Ah, I know!”  
  
“Victor, no. Don’t grab his hand!”  
  
“But Yuuri!”  
  
There was more to their conversation, but Phichit drifted back to sleep quickly. When Seung-gil upended his bed a few hours later, he was sure it was all just a dream.

  
_____

 

  
The uneasy feeling of being watched stirred Phichit from his slumber. He resisted the urge to move, knowing better than to show he was awake. The figure standing over him had other ideas however, because a familiar hissing made its way to his ears.  
  
Ugh, why?  
  
“Seung-gil,” he groaned, burying himself further into mattress heaven and throwing his blanket over his head. “We kept the lights open for a reason. Go to the bathroom if you need to go.”  
  
Seung-gil huffed and unceremoniously shoved him off the bed without another word.  
  
“What the fu–“  
  
“Dog.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I heard barking in the hall,” he elaborated, his usual haughtiness replaced with a manic eagerness. “There’s a dog running loose here. I need to find them.”  
  
Oh god, how could he forget? Nothing threw Seung-gil’s impassive behavior out the window faster than the possibility of meeting a dog. He attempted jumping out of a third storey window for a Pomeranian a month ago.  
  
A quick glance at his charging phone told Phichit it was just after two in the morning. Nope, no way. Even with his all-encompassing sunshine wonder, it was far too early to be roaming the halls trying to quell his roommate’s hunger for puppy pats.  
  
“Seung-gil, please,” he whined. “I know you’re pissy about not getting to bring Nun-i with you, but this is no way to be getting back at me.”  
  
“I’m not getting back at you,” he growled.  
  
“Then maybe you were dreaming?” he offered, desperate to return to the comfiest pillows on earth.  
  
Seung-gil’s nostrils flared, “I don’t dream. Get up, we’re looking for the good dog.”  
  
More groaning followed by exasperated floor flopping, “How would a dog get to the second floor anyway?”  
  
“Mr. Plisetsky said they let the farm poodles roam the halls sometimes.”  
  
“Sweetheart, why would they release dogs into the hallway at two in the morning?”  
  
“Let me have this, Chulanont. I still have your embarrassing photos from the New Year’s party.”  
  
That got him catapulting into attention. “You little shit.”  
  
“Let’s find the dog.”  
  
Phichit liked him better when he slid all the curtains closed and demanded to keep the lights on for the night.

 

  
_____

 

  
There was a poodle silhouetted against the floor to ceiling window. A fluffy standard poodle that woofed playfully at the sight of the two houseguests. With a happy jerk, it took off past them down the hallway.  
  
Phichit hadn’t seen Seung-gil move so fast in their entire decade of friendship. He bolted from their room, not caring that he was straying further and further from the only light source. Phichit swore and ran after him, hissing cautiously all the while.  
  
“Have you ever seen a horror movie, you moron? Get back here!”  
  
“I. Need. To. Find. The doggo.”  
  
“Unbelievable!”  
  
They followed the errant poodle to the end of the hall and up to the third floor, nowhere near fast enough to prevent the mischievous ball of fluff from bounding through an open door. As its tail pushed the door shut, Phichit saw Seung-gil tense in front of him.  
  
“What now?”  
  
“This is the third-floor corridor.”  
  
He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes? And are you anticipating a giant three-headed dog now?”  
  
“That’s Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov’s room.”  
  
Well, shit. Phichit hadn’t considered the possibility of the manor being haunted by a ghost dog. His companion’s pinched expression showed he hadn’t thought of that either. This would be a great time to run screaming back into their room – or maybe Guang Hong and Otabek’s room. Yeah, that would be better. Seung-gil had other ideas; he squared is shoulders, schooled his expression into one of intense determination, and advanced.  
  
Phichit squawked, launching himself on his companion’s back. His pace didn’t falter however, and Phichit found himself being dragged toward the double doors. “What are you doing?” he spat, wishing Seung-gil wasn’t such as stubborn ass.  
  
“I need to find the dog,” he answered, resolute. Despite Phichit’s futile attempt at weighing them down, Seung-gil shoved the doors open and pulled them inside.  
  
Unsurprisingly, there were no lights in the room – only moonlight streaming from the windows. Phichit’s attention was immediately drawn to the king-sized canopy bed, the silver light casting gentle shadows on the long untouched sheets. According to Yuri, the only room left unchanged over the years was this one bedroom. His eyes trailed to the ornate bedside tables and drawers along the walls. Eventually, he caught sight of a large portrait hanging over the fireplace.  
  
Victor and Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov were a handsome pair, both unfairly gorgeous and clearly in love. Yuuri – gentle features, blue-framed glasses, and dressed in a simple hakama – sat demurely on a loveseat. Phichit noticed it looked like the one that stood across the fireplace in the receiving room. His large eyes were focused upward, his attention focused solely on the man standing behind him.  
  
Victor had sharp angles that contrast with Yuuri’s round face – narrower eyes, prominent cheekbones, and crisp trench coat over what was most likely an expensive tuxedo. He looked no less kind, however. The blissful smile on his face was vaguely heart-shaped, and the joy on his face made him look like a lovesick schoolboy. His was likewise occupied by his husband – one hand resting on his shoulder, and the other clasped lovingly his Yuuri’s grasp. The artist ensured that their golden wedding bands shone brightly.  
  
Seung-gil chose that moment to teleport right in front of him and scare the shit of out him. He screeched, jumping away and pinwheeling frantically to keep his balance. He steadied himself and clutched his chest, breathing deeply to calm his racing heart.  
  
Seung-gil sneered. “The dog is gone. I looked everywhere.”  
  
“Do the words ghost dog mean anything to you?” he huffed.  
  
Seung-gil wasn’t listening to him, however. Instead, his gaze was focused to something over his shoulder. By the way he paled considerably, wide eyes unblinking, Phichit knew it was nothing good. Slowly, he turned, bracing himself for whatever could be standing at the door.  
  
Black eyes met green and he screamed.

 

  
_____

 

  
Yuri yelled at them for a good fifteen minutes for thumping around the halls and trespassing in his great, great grandparents’ bedroom. Apparently, their mad dash frightened Guang Hong so badly that he was holed up in his and Otabek’s shared bathroom, whimpering at Leo on the phone. For such an angry kitty, Yuri did care for his loved ones’ well-being.  
  
(Of course, he also walked up the stairs in white sleep clothes – hair in his face and holding a lit candelabra – and scared the living daylights out of him and Seung-gil. So, there was that.)  
  
Despite feeling guilty, Seung-gil was quick to defend himself. “We saw a dog in the hall. We had to go get it.”  
  
Yuri facepalmed. “Please don’t tell me this whole mess started because of a fucking poodle.”  
  
“How did you know it was a poodle?” Phichit asked.  
  
“Please,” he drawled, “poodles are the only dogs that exist as far as this place is concerned. You probably saw Makkachin running around.”  
  
“Makkachin?” Seung-gil perked, looking far too like a puppy given a treat.  
  
“Yes, Makkachin. The slippery demon dog that can’t function without attention.” He sighed, “just get to sleep, I’ll talk to them about their fucking dog.”  
  
Phichit, who went through far too much before three in the morning, accepted his grumbling without further explanation and yanked Seung-gil back into their room to sleep.

 

  
_____

 

  
Otabek was the only one there when he went down to the dining hall for breakfast later that morning. He knew for a fact that Seung-gil left early for the poodle farm, so the four upturned plates were expected. He’d have to remember to call the idiot in to eat if he hasn’t back in an hour.  
  
Phichit helped himself to the bountiful spread, enjoying every morsel of the Japanese-style breakfast.  
  
“Their chefs are amazing,” he praised, gobbling his third helping of omelets.  
  
“There aren’t any,” Otabek said.  
  
He looked up from his plate. “What do you mean?”  
  
He shrugged noncommittally, “I went into the kitchen for coffee and no one was there. The food and plates were set up though.”  
  
“Wait, no one?”  
  
“Not a soul.”  
  
He stared at the half-filled pot of coffee next to the tea kettle. “Then where did you get that?”  
  
Another shrug. “It was here when I returned. I guess I missed it the first time.”  
  
Yeah, no. There was no way Otabek could have missed a very conspicuous pot of coffee so easily. He didn’t even need coffee to be a person, he just drank it to be cool.  
  
“How’d the food get here then?”  
  
“I thought it was Yuri, but…”  
  
“Yeah, he’s a disaster in the kitchen,” his eyes strayed to the three empty seats. “There’s no way Yuri could’ve done this.”  
  
“Could’ve done what?”  
  
They turned to see both Yuri and Guang Hong walking toward them, both curious and hungry.  
  
Phichit cut to the chase. “Where’d all this food come from? Otabek said there wasn’t anyone in the kitchen.”  
  
While Guang Hong froze in his tracks, looking ready to bolt at any wrong movement, Yuri pulled up a chair nonchalantly.  
  
“They’re probably at the poodle farm,” they meaning the cooks, they supposed. Their servants were jacks of all trades, by the look of it. “They have a system, and at least one of them should be feeding the dogs.” He shoved half an omelette in his mouth and added, “We’re doing the dishes after this, by the way. It’s the one chore they can’t stand, even with the industrial-sized dishwasher.”  
  
Industrial-sized dishwasher. Sure.  
  
“How many people work here, Yuri?” he asked when they lapsed into a comfortable silence.  
  
“Work?” he echoed, bemused.  
  
“The caretakers,” he elaborated. “The people who cooked and brought our stuff up yesterday?”  
  
He guffawed, surprising them all at the suddenness. “Oh god,” he said between breaths, “you think they’re caretakers. God, that’s so rich.”  
  
“Relatives then?” Guang Hong offered, looking uncertain with Yuri’s mirth.  
  
The laughing continued. “Sure, yeah. Relatives.”  
  
“We should have introduced ourselves to them!” Guang Hong stood in a panic, hands waving frantically. “They made us all this food and prepared rooms for us. We have to thank them. Yuri!”  
  
He was still snickering when he said, “Calm your tits, Guang Hong. They’re busy and stupid, you’ll probably see them before the week ends.”  
  
When Phichit convinced (yelled at) Seung-gil to return for breakfast half an hour later, he told him that there was no one else at the poodle farm with him. However, he did worry about the sweet puppies not being fed some time during his visit. When he returned from the pantry with a large bag of specialized dog food, he found every poodle with their head buried in their bowls.  
  
Food bowls that he was sure were completely bare just a few minutes before.

 

  
_____

 

  
When Phichit saw a photo, he was sure he deleted from his Victory Manor Day 1 album later that afternoon, he knew he had to confront his companions. When Yuri left the library to answer a call from his relatives (they didn’t hear a phone ring), he dropped his casual act and forced the other three to plop themselves on the settee by the window.  
  
“Okay, so this place is haunted.”  
  
Guang Hong dropped his book and fell off the cushions. The other two had more apathetic reactions. Otabek gestured for him to continue, but Seung-gil butt in instead.  
  
“I figured from the poodle farm,” he agreed. “None of the standards responded to me calling Makkachin.”  
  
Otabek broke the silence. “And you’re not running out of here because?”  
  
“It’s the daytime,” he said matter-of-factly, “and it’s a ghost poodle.”

  
  
_____

 

  
“Your mansion is haunted,” Phichit said when Yuri returned with snacks.  
  
Without missing a beat, he scoffed, “About time you realized. I was getting sick of being the only one they bothered.”  
  
Wait, what?  
  
“Yurio, that’s not nice!” a familiar, accented voice squawked behind him. All four guests turned around. There, dressed casually in warm sweaters, were Yuri’s great grandfathers. The ghost dog, Makkachin, trotted from behind them and toward Yuri. The blond pet him absentmindedly.

No one screamed, but Guang Hong did bolt into a shelf in panic.  
  
Yuuri smiled sheepishly, “They’re certainly reacting better than Mila’s friends.”

 

  
_____

 

No one in Yuri’s family knew why Victor and Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov’s ghosts – and why their first poodle, Makkachin, descended from doggy heaven to join them – haunted Victuuri Manor. (It was, in fact, called Victuuri Manor. It wasn’t the accent.) Some suspected it was due to black magic, while others thought it had something to do with the power of love allowing them to watch over their descendants for all eternity.  
  
They didn’t even bother trying to explain why they looked like they were in their mid-twenties.  
  
Regardless, their spirits lived on long after their deaths, and their children just shrugged it off and thanked them for preventing a passive-aggressive family feud for ownership of the estate. Phichit supposed it was why both Yuri and his grandfather lived in an apartment in the city rather than the manor. While the title passed to the eldest child of each generation, Victor and Yuuri still managed every aspect of the estate.  
  
They did most of the manual labor themselves, having long perfected the art of poltergeisting. All the food and magic bag movement was their doing. Yuuri fed the poodles that morning, and it explained why Seung-gil didn’t see anyone when he went. Yuuri thought he could use a break after the horror movie marathon from the night before. They paid for utilities and related expenses through bank transfers.  
  
Those that the couple took into their estate kept in touch over the years. Their descendants were among close family friends. They prevented the spread of unsolicited pictures of the manor and took steps to keep the estate secure. They also supplied them with food, all the necessary upgrades of the twenty first century, and anything else they would need to entertain company. Most of them were also prominent members of society.  
  
(Mayor Popovich just happened to be Yuri’s something cousin something removed.)  
  
It was the town’s best-kept secret.  
  
On an unrelated note, Yuri was named after his Japanese great-great grandfather. Victor thought it was the cutest thing on earth, and Yuuri thought it was embarrassing. Also, one of Yuri’s distant cousins gave him a nickname when he was born. Then fifteen-year-old Mari, named after Yuuri’s older sister, thought it would be too confusing to have two Yuris around the manor and called him Yurio, after her favorite boy band member.  
  
Much to Yuri’s chagrin, the name stuck.

  
  
_____

  
“So Grandpa Nikolai was serious?” Phichit asked, incredulous. “People are creeped out by this place just because Coach Feltsman pulled a prank of Old Man Leroy?”  
  
Both Yurio and Victor chortled, while Yuuri sighed and narrowed his eyes at the pair. Rather than looking chastised, they doubled over and laughed louder.  
  
“Patrick didn’t believe Yasha at first,” he explained. “Naturally, his first course of action was to drag him here and prove his point.” He poked the crown of his husband’s head, digging into the spot insistently. “This one thought it would be fun to humor him and snuck up behind him.”  
  
Victor wiped a single tear from his eye, “You should have seen his face! They boy ran out the door, screaming his head off.”  
  
“Victor!”  
  
“Grandpa Katsudon, please,” Yurio laughed. “You enjoyed that just as much as he did.”  
  
Yuuri placed his cup back on the table and groaned into Makkachin’s fur. Victor carded his fingers through his black hair lovingly. “It doesn’t help that we continued the little tradition with Alain some time later. I can’t believe that Yulenka is Kolya’s daughter. She more like Yasha, really.”  
  
Yurio perked at that, “Wait, does this mean I get to scare the shit out of JJ soon?”  
  
“Yurio, no.”  
  
“Yurio, yes.”  
  
Victor and Yuuri later confirmed that the scary haunted house rumors began with the Leroy family and their loyal fanbase. Despite the tradition of scaring the eldest child out of their wits, the Katsuki-Nikiforov clan were close friends with the family for generations.

  
  
_____

 

  
Since Coach Yakov’s prank, telling one's close friends and/or significant other about the ghosts of Victuuri Manor had become a rite of passage. (And yes, as much as Yakov, Yulia, and Yuri denied it, the Leroys counted as close friends.)  
  
Georgi introduced his great-great grand uncles to his friends Christophe Giacometti, Cao Bin, and his then girlfriend Anya in high school. They broke up a month later, but she was kind enough to keep the secret. Mila took her girlfriend Sara Crispino, her brother Michele, and Emil Nekola on a trip to the estate when their relationship got serious. Relatives living out of the city always made sure to find time to bring their important people over to as soon as they were able.  
  
Apparently, all Mila really had to do was reassure Yurio that his friends would still be his friends when the week was over. He’d been wary of bringing them over to the estate for a few weeks prior.  
  
They spent the rest of the week plotting. Guang Hong surprised them all by already having haunted house ideas ready. He was a devious shit when he wasn’t scared or fire engine red in Leo’s presence. Coincidentally, part of the plan involved them being split into pairs. Other attractions were set up specifically to terrify their other friends who abandoned them for that week. Seung-gil was having none of their ridiculousness and approached Yuuri with pictures of his sweet Husky. They ran off into a corner of the room with Makkachin.  
  
Victor floated over to Otabek eventually. They met eyes for a few minutes before nodding together. He supposed this meant the boy was officially welcomed into the family.  
  
“Oi, Chulanont!” Yuri bellowed. “Get your ass over here and tell us where to hide cameras. Which angles should we see JJ shit himself from?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by Raz's [tweet](https://twitter.com/_oshirukos/status/924502604452892672) and my general inability to write horror.
> 
> Hit me up on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cROAissant) and [Tumblr](http://croaissant.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are much appreciated!


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